Mudshark by Gary Paulsen

Author:Gary Paulsen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780375892554
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-04-09T21:00:00+00:00

As he made his way to Mr. Wagner's office, a wave of doom and gloom swamped him. Any time a person was ordered to report to the principal immediately, bad news followed.

Mudshark was ushered past the school secretary—a thin, always-smiling woman of massive efficiency who basically ran the school—and into Mr. Wagner's office.

The principal genuinely believed that his job was simply getting out of the way to allow teachers to teach. He mostly dealt with problems in the cafeteria—like why ten percent of the milk was always one day past its expiration date, and why did so many children have so much trouble unwrapping the butter pats so that little bits of tinfoil stuck to the floor and had to be picked up piece by small, sticky, grubby, slippery, tiny little piece, and why, oh why did the cook insist on creating new recipes consisting of terrifying combinations (wasabi tuna noodle casserole spring rolls and chocolate potato pie, for example) that inevitably resulted in numerous parents griping to Mr. Wagner about their children's nausea?

And now, of course, erasers.

“Come in, Lyle, it's good to see you.” Mr. Wagner motioned to a chair opposite his desk. “How are things going?”

“Fine.” Mudshark waited.

“For some time now, I've heard that you are good at finding things.”

Mudshark nodded.

“I'm having trouble with something.” Mr. Wagner looked uncomfortable. Mudshark nodded encouragingly.

Mr. Wagner hesitated, took a deep breath and then blurted:

“Alltheerasersinschoolseemtohavebeenstolen.”

“I've noticed.”

“It's hard not to. Half the teachers have taken to using their shirttails to wipe off the board, which makes for some uncomfortable half-clothed moments in the classroom. Another half are swiping gym towels from the locker rooms, so now we've got showers full of wet kids but no towels. Then the other half of the faculty are asking for easels and enormous pads of paper to write on, which simply isn't in my budget. Then there's the half that just keeps writing over everything and have you seen that undecipherable layer of gobbledygook on the boards in the science wing?”

“That's four halves, sir.”

“It is?”

“Yes, but I see your point.”

“It seems a silly concern, I know, especially given the disastrous end to the recent Death Ball tournament and the still-lost gerbil and that weird parrot in the library and don't even get me started about the faculty washroom crisis, but I wonder if you could help me find the erasers.”

Mudshark smiled.

“Of course.”

Mudshark went home after school, thinking about the principal's request. As soon as he entered the house, his mother whizzed past him, thrusting a sticky Sara into his arms.

“Look, lovey, would you be a dear and watch the girls for me? I have to give a presentation at the library and your father is running late at the office. The girls are doing an art project so they shouldn't be any trouble for you while you wait for Dad to get home.”

Mudshark held Sara at arm's length and inventoried the damage: a piece of dog kibble was stuck in her hair, she had colored her entire right hand with purple marker and her shoes were not only mismatched but also on the wrong feet.

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